


"There are more things in heaven and earth....

by sherlock221Bismymuse



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Angst and Feels, Forbidden Love, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, True Love, Wincest - Freeform, tags will be added as we progress, to avoid spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:20:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28342302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlock221Bismymuse/pseuds/sherlock221Bismymuse
Summary: ...Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy." Quote from Hamlet, by William Shakespeare.This is a kind of Christmas gift to all the wonderful readers who have been so kind as to read, enjoy and comment on my fics from time to time! Wishing you all a wonderful season and a very happy new year 2021 !
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 12
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic I have been working on for a while.  
> If the angels and demons were working on getting this Winchester ensemble together for centuries in order to release Lucifer, after millenia, then surely they did trial runs?  
> They must have tried to get John, Mary, Dean, Sam and others to be born again and again till the jigsaw puzzle fitted itself and the vessels did what they were supposed to do, when they were supposed to?  
> From the time we saw Dean go back in time to find Chronos, this idea was growing in my head. I had written something similar for the Sherlock fandom, years ago, and I have adapted it here for Supernatural of course.  
> So this is an AU where most of the canon plot remains the same. But it is set in 16th century England, because before September 1620, when the Mayflower sails from England to the New World, there is no small town America for our boys to live in!  
> Yes this is a Wincest fic and yes they are brothers and no, there isn’t a happy ending….at least not for this iteration of their lives.  
> But as we now know, thanks to the finale, they are both living happily ever after in Heaven 😊 So we can go ahead and write and read all the angsty fics we want, safe in that knowledge!  
> Hope you enjoy this fic, where Brother Dean is trying hard to be an obedient Benedictine Monk in London and Samuel Campbell is a heretic on the run from the Church. They meet the Queen of England as well as a certain Bard who may or may not have founded the British Men of Letters…..and Rowena finds herself in a hot corner when the witch hunts start.  
> It is a forbidden love story.


	2. Asylum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A stranger is found and rescued by Garth’s network and cared for by Brother Dean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With a choice of 367 titles in the show, I am borrowing some as relevant to the chapter :) Please note that this does not correlate the plot of the chapter with the plot of the episode.  
> For those of you who like facts and history and trivia, there will be detailed notes at the end of the chapters. For those who just want to know about a troubled Dean as a warrior priest, finding a hunted stranger whose touch travels like smoke in his blood and falling into a chaotic and forbidden love affair with him, as witches are burned and the Bard writes his plays...... hope the fic works for you too !!

“Brother Dean come quickly there is an injured man” said Garth.

He was one of the homeless people who had a vast network across the city. Some people said he was actually of noble birth but chose to live like this because of the freedom it gave him to help people. Some said he was a spy for the Royal family. Some said he was a spy for the Church. Brother Dean didn’t care for those stories and had always treated him kindly anyway.

Garth also preferred to deal with Brother Dean. The other priests did help him when they could of course since it was their calling, but Brother Dean was the favourite of the homeless because he was as sensitive and caring towards someone with the great pox as he was with the young prostitutes who had tried to get rid of a pregnancy or towards the sick child with gripes as much as he was with the elderly with consumption.

Dean had just finished with baptisms in the morning and then a long afternoon of prayer--a routine that Father John had insisted he follow in order to balance the drain on his energy from the new exorcisms he had learnt. So he was really mentally fatigued that day but he got up at once and picked up his soft brown bag filled with cloth bandages, cotton balls and ointments and followed Garth.

.

Once they left the high walls of the monastery, Garth took Dean down the usual alley but then put him on a black horse and said he would catch up with them on foot. The horse seemed to know where she was going and Dean was able to just sit and try to ignore the dull soreness that was always a part of his body while letting his mind stay peacefully blank. It had been a month since the last Hunt and he was mostly healed. But now Father John had gone away on his own and had not been back for a few weeks. It worried him even though he knew that the man was more than capable of taking care of himself.

He had already sent one pigeon but had had no reply. He was worried whether sending another one might put Father John in danger in case he was in hiding. It was probably best to just wait, though he could not keep away the fearful thoughts that arose in his mind, the longer that time passed since he had last seen him and fought by his side.

After an hour long ride Dean finally and gratefully climbed down from the beast next to a place which he had rarely been to thus far. It was on the outskirts of London and he knew that many migrants, deserters, lepers and even some Jews and Moslem brothers from the Continent often found refuge here on Fournier Common.

As he dismounted he saw that Little Charlie was waiting there with a small lamp and he followed her into the dirty narrow path towards a small hut where the injured man was probably lying.

It was dark and smelly inside and he could see that there were rats scurrying about but the man had been lain on a wooden platform on a bed of hay and old clothes. Little Charlie hurried to light two candles and Dean could finally take a look at the patient.

Even in that poor light and in that stinking place, Dean drew in a sharp breath at the sight. He had surely never set eyes on a more beautiful creature of God. Olive gold skin with dark long hair, a sharp nose and a regal brow. Lips like Cupid’s bow and long eyelashes casting shadows on stunning cheekbones.

It took him a few seconds to gather himself and ask Charlie, “What happened to him? Has he been asleep or has he had the vapours?”

The girl just shrugged and went over to set some water for boiling on a makeshift stove.

Dean bent over and touched the young man’s brow. He was cool to the touch so at least there was no danger of a serious infection. He looked almost starved and hollowed out and when he moved the sheet covering him he saw there were cuts and bruises almost all over his arms and torso as though he had escaped through a thick forest at great speed. Dean noticed a strange scar on his chest that looked old and healed but he had no time to focus on it.

He held his wrist and took a pulse. It was a bit rapid and weak but regular.

By this time the young man was fluttering his eyelids and attempting to speak, so Dean rested his hand on his face and said gently ‘Don’t worry brother, I am a priest and I am here to take care of you.’

At the word ‘priest’ the stranger's eyes shot open and he had an expression of sheer terror as well as fury and Dean moved back a foot. Something like a snarl escaped from the young man and he held Dean’s wrist with ferocious strength. As soon as their palms slid over each other's Dean felt a mild shock to his skin, like a sting and he took in a sharp breath and almost moved his hand away but just then the man spoke.

 _"Hell is Truth seen too late."_ he said and just as suddenly he sank back on the bed and closed his eyes.

Dean had been so startled by this that he did not notice that his hand was still being held by this mad man even in his sleep. He held his hand for a minute, wondering at that rather curious exclamation but it was more important right now to make sure this man was fed and woken up so that he could move him to a safer place. So he let go of his hand and turned to Charlie and told her to bring some food and water for the man and gave her one coin with which to buy them.

While he waited for her to return he used a soft cloth dipped in the warm water to wipe the young man’s face and neck and arms. This seems to annoy the stranger even in this weakened state but although he frowned and cursed under his breath, he allowed these ministrations.

When Charlie finally got back and Dean had managed to even get the youth to drink some ale and eat some spoons of porridge, he finally asked him. “Can you tell me who you are my brother? What is your name? How did you come to be here amongst these people?’

The young man glared at him and said ‘I come to escape your kind O ‘brother’ and he almost spat that last word out.

Dean raised his eyebrows mildly and thought he would leave the interrogation for later. His first priority was to make sure the man was taken care of. Something about the way he spoke and his haughty demeanour made him think that he was nobility and if as he seemed to suggest, he was escaping other priests, maybe he needed a safe place to stay while he healed.

So Dean tended to the wounds as best he could with the man glaring at him and not being very cooperative though he did not wince or utter a single sound of pain. Dean made him sit up as he cleaned his back and spoke soothingly, forcing himself to not be distracted by the ripple of the strong muscles under his hands and the way that olive golden skin felt soft like honey and smooth as silk.

“You need to take rest good sir. I will send some more bread and ale and meat that will help your blood and bones gain strength and the skin to knit. Don’t worry. You are safe here.”

The injured man just glared at him in return and looked at all corners of the room like a wild creature.

Dean smiled. He faced the man and told him very kindly to not try and escape because he would not get very far in his current state.

“Trust me.” Dean said, gently putting his hand on the man’s arm. “I am sorry that you have had a bad experience with other men of the cloth, but you have sought asylum here and now I will protect you with my life if needed.”

At those words, something flashed in the young man’s eyes. Dean was not quite sure what it was but something in his own eyes seemed to have reassured the stranger who then gave a sharp nod. 

.

Dean gathered his materials and when he was done he left the hutment with Garth by his side.

Dean asked him what he knew. Garth shrugged and said, “Not much but he was brought here by the Moor -Rufus- who used to work with Pastor Jim. He said something about there being a danger to his life and that some may call him a heretic or a madman but he needs to be kept safe till we know the truth. I didn’t understand half of what he was babbling. Tainted blood and second son of the second son and sacrifices. But I figured better to keep him here and then you could sort it out.’

‘You did well Garth’, Dean said and gave him a coin. ‘I must go back now and have a word with Custodian Singer Bobby to find out what can be done for a safe house. In the meanwhile make sure he eats at least twice a day and drinks a pitcher full of ale every day. I will send a pigeon with a message for you.’

‘Awright’, said Garth, touching his cap and biting the coin. 'Can't be too sure of what your followers drop in the Church boxes Brother!" He reminded Dean cheerfully. Then he pulled out some parchment wrapped bundles from his pocket. ‘Oh and I got this from Widow Rowena down by the Baker’s Street. She said to put this ointment on his wounds and feed him this paste once a day.’

Dean had great respect for Widow Rowena’s medicinal skills and in fact sought her advise for his herb garden often enough. 

‘Yes of course, that was an excellent idea Garth. I must go now. And remember, till you hear from me, he stays here, hidden and safe.’

“You got it guv’nor.” Garth said with his cheerful smile as he touched his cap.

Dean smiled and nodded, always a bit wary since Garth sometimes behaved as though they were friends and that always troubled him. He had no friends. Priests in the making had no friends. They had fellow brothers. They had teachers and pastors and the Almighty Father. And they had the flock and the followers. No friends.

So he nodded and quickly followed Little Charlie outside and rode the same horse back all the way to the Monastery…….thinking of this beautiful injured stranger and what he had shouted at him and what the big mystery could possibly be.

His thoughts turned once again to the missing Father John and almost like a vision he suddenly recalled a long- buried memory. A fragment in fact. Of himself at the tender age of 8, hearing bits of conversation between Pastor Jim and father John. It sounded like an argument but the tone was low and urgent. Perhaps even frantic. It sounded like Father John wanted to take him for some kind of training and Pastor Jim was resisting.

‘…..he’s my son Jim!’

‘….his safety….John don’t….’

‘….for his sake….don’t you understand…..happened to the other one….’

‘Don’t like this…..’

‘…..it’s not your decision’

As a child he had not understood most of this and had been confused. Was he Father John’s son? Then why had he been raised in the Church by Pastor Jim? Who was ‘the other one’ and what had happened to him?

Today as he rode home Dean’s mind was buzzing like a beehive. Full of questions. Deeper and more intriguing questions that were arising now at an age almost 20 years since that overheard whispered argument.

_Why had he remembered all this now? Why today? Who would know the answers?_

Just then he entered the walls of the Monastery and realized that evening prayers had already started. So he washed up quickly and joined in for the last chorus, lost at once in the beautiful words and the full throated sounds filling the Abbey, all his earlier worries forgotten.

‘There is coming a day,  
When no heart aches shall come,  
No more clouds in the sky,  
No more tears to dim the eye,  
All is peace forever more,  
On that happy golden shore,  
What a day, glorious day that will be.’  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> •During the 16th century, syphilis was called "great pox" in order to distinguish it from smallpox.  
> •"Hell is Truth Seen Too Late." Thomas Hobbes. He was a 16th century English philosopher who is considered one of the founders of modern political philosophy. He also contributed to the field of ethics and theology.  
> •Carrier and homing pigeon played a huge and important role in the World War in communication from behind enemy lines. https://www.countrylife.co.uk/out-and-about/dogs/pigeons-anything-bird-brained-174138  
> . In the mid-16th century, Elizabeth I’s government came up with a series of measures to deter “divers evil persons” from damaging the reputation of English coinage and, with it, the good name of the nation. Outside the mints, counterfeiting was widespread and practised by all manner of “naughty persons”. Records noting the occupations of arrested counterfeiters (punishment for those found guilty of the most severe crimes was hanging) reveal that the came from a wide range of social groups – from gentlemen to servants. https://www.cam.ac.uk/research/features/naughty-money-clippers-and-coiners-in-16th-century-england  
> •Dean is an English masculine given name with several origins: Derived from the Greek word "dekanos" which means "monk or dignitary in charge of ten others", or an Anglicization of a Hebrew noun meaning Law or Justice.  
> •It was Edward VI, who died in 1553, who first permitted the settlement of Protestant asylum seekers at a time when persecutions were being widely documented across Europe. Refugees had to settle in designated towns, worship in their own churches, and provide for the poor and sick in their own congregations. Restrictions were placed on their ability to meet and mix with the local population, leaving refugees largely ghettoised. https://theconversation.com/the-asylum-seekers-who-frightened-elizabethan-england-21743  
> . Also https://mapoflondon.uvic.ca/ALIE1.htm  
> .As early as the Middle Ages, “Moors were commonly viewed as being mostly black or very swarthy, and hence the word is often used for negro,” according to the Oxford English Dictionary. Author and historian Chancellor Williams said “the original Moors, like the original Egyptians, were black Africans.”


	3. All in the Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean reflects on the people in power in London how he has come to be where he is and what he is.

The city of London in the 16th century was rife with rumour and intrigue and power games of the worst kind.

Dean did not have much to do with the Palace directly but being an herbalist in the largest monastery in Covent Garden he saw and heard things which made him more aware than others of what went on in the great city he now called home.

In the midst of all this intrigue and chaos and politics and training and hunting, Dean also tried very hard to keep himself focussed on his pursuit of knowledge—both spiritual and medicinal.

He recorded his herb garden details painstakingly in a large leather- bound book that had been written into by the Family members for generations. He grew every herb and plant that was needed for spells and summonings and exorcisms but managed to find other uses for it so that none of the others in the monastery would suspect anything untoward.

He had help from Mistress Rowena who lived in Scotland and would come down to the Monastery once in six months to teach him about more herbs and spells. She had a very sharp tongue and a very quick temper, to go with her flaming red hair and she did not really get along with Father John at all. Dean found it amusing how she always managed to time her visits to avoid the Father completely.

Of course, that was not too difficult since Father John himself was constantly on the move. Dean knew that he worked closely with the Knights Templar and the Hashashin. Not only that, but Dean knew that the Freemasons were also involved in this quest, as were some of the Druids.

He had gone on one of the Hunts to that fence of large stones called the Stonehenge which was the centre of a forcefield that had kept demons out of England for centuries. It was when one of the stones had been moved accidentally that the Great Plague of London had hit and killed almost a quarter of the city’s population. Since then the Henge was carefully guarded and only the Druids were allowed there for prayers. No one wanted to risk the kind of apocalyptic event that could be unleashed if the Stonehenge were to be damaged.

So Dean knew that his work was important but he was never really sure if he himself was of any importance.

.

So he kept his head down and did his duties but he also kept his eyes and ears open. He knew things. He heard things. He saw things. Not all of them always made good sense.

It was said that King William Henry Harvelle was a good man but a weak one and his fondness for the hunt had given him the nickname ‘Billy the Hunter’.

Dean had also heard that the King’s younger brother from his father’s mistress had been trying to make himself more powerful of late and many of those in the army were worried that if he succeeded things could become difficult for everyone since he was ruthless as well as clever. Although he was named Aaron, meaning Bringer of Light, people referred to him as the Prince of Darkness instead. (In hushed whispers and in secret of course…for those who opposed him openly came to a gruesome end.)

Several strange rumours floated about his cruelty and torture and his un-natural fondness for small boys but no one ever seemed to know anyone who actually had proof. Some said even looking into his eyes directly could cause one’s eyes to turn yellow and burn out. Some said he drank blood and others said he made babies drink blood. Whatever the truth, his very name struck terror in the hearts of the commoners as well as noblemen.

Dean had also heard whispers in the past few months of a new advisor who had been brought in by the King all the way over from Italy. Perhaps to advise him on matters of religion and war and justice and ruling a kingdom and all manner of such fine things as a ruler needs. Many people felt it was a sign of weakness but those close to the advisor said that ‘ _The first method for estimating the intelligence of a ruler is to look at the men he has around him’._

His name was Nicholas Machiavelli but of course in England the commoners had nicknamed him ‘Crowley’ because they said he was just creepy and no one’s secrets were safe with him ‘crowling’ around the city.

.

Dean knew what people said about the Queen too. That Queen Anne Ellen Harvelle (born in the House of Boleyn) was apparently very well read and thoughtful and kind. It had been an arranged marriage of course, since the nobility would always use a marriage as an opportunity to consolidate wealth or to trade political power. So she had been married off at a young age but he had heard that she had sought to learn about herbs and medicine although women were not allowed to be physicians. It was rumoured that she had even visited a dissection room in disguise in order to understand what was inside the human body. There had been some whispers about her learning witchcraft rather than medical concerns but despite these rumours she was well liked by the people as well as respected by the noble houses.

Dean had always thought that of all the Royal family members she sounded like a very interesting person and he wondered if he would ever have an opportunity to see her. She had lost two babies soon after birth and when they had prayed for those souls in the Abbey, Dean had wondered, briefly, if it was worse for the mother to lose her children…who she had never known….…or for a child to lose his mother….who he knew had loved him.

His own mother had died when he was very small. Maybe when he was 4 years old. There had been a fire and the house had burned down. With her in it.

That is all he remembered. Or maybe that is what he had been told. He could no longer be sure.

He thought she had been beautiful and had golden hair and the sweetest smile in the whole world……like an angel of the Lord. But there was nothing physical to remember her by. Just the echo of a voice calling him her baby……and a faint smell of roses and milk when she held him in her arms……and the twist he sometimes felt in his heart when he woke up from a dream in which she was singing him to sleep.

Sometimes he thought he remembered running out of the burning house with a baby brother in his hands but Pastor Jim John had dismissed that as a figment of his imagination. He had suggested that perhaps Dean had dreamt up that detail of a baby brother because he felt so alone.

Pastor Jim always reminded him that he was not really entirely _all_ alone. The Heavenly Father was with each and every one of his Children and He loved them all very much.

Whenever he was told that, Dean would bow his head in assent and never let the good Pastor see the doubt and even anger in his eyes. _Why had the Heavenly Father allowed his mother to burn to Death? Why had He allowed Dean to be an orphan growing up in the Church?_

_._

Sometimes the way Father John looked at him made him wonder. He was never quite sure if Father John was his real father or he spoke to him about Family only in the sense of the Band of Brothers. Father John always spoke to him of his duty to the Family Trade. Reminded him that they were legacies of the Knights Templar and that their work was to protect Good and fight Evil.

He always exhorted Dean to focus. To remember that he needed to study everything he could and be prepared for the coming of the Apocalypse. Only a small and secret Band of Brothers knew the things he was being taught and all of humanity would depend on them being able to defend it.

Dean had only met a few people from the Band during his Hunts but they never spoke to each other of any personal matters. That was the Rule. The unwritten Law that held them together and ensured undying loyalty to the Cause.

They had no personal lives. They had only to obey and serve.

Dean obeyed. He did. He wanted to belong. He needed this Family even if it was made of damaged and angry men trying to fix a world broken beyond repair.

So he obeyed and served and he trained hard. He trained in the Epping Forest, and in Sherwood Forest, and every place that Father John had seen fit to take him to from the time he was nearly ten years old. Shooting arrow after arrow dead centre of the target and throwing spears beyond the treetops. Learning how to wield a long sword, a mace, a battle axe and a dagger. Switching hands till he could fling a dagger dead centre of a tree trunk with the left hand as well as the right. He was also proficient in hand- to- hand combat—sometimes with eyes closed, or with one hand tied behind his back, or wearing heavy iron bells around his wrists. His favourite sessions were those where they rode full tilt on a galloping horse and he managed to shoot an arrow into the moving target on the other horse.

There was something about the free and open road they would ride back on and the way he would then settle into the saddle of his favourite black steed….it always made him feel just a little bit sad to go back to the Monastery. Not that he ever complained or even allowed himself to fully form that thought in his head. But sometimes in dreams he would find himself on a powerful black steed roaring down an enormous road, someone by his side. He could never see who it was. The face was blurry but he knew this was a brother in arms and it was a happy dream.

.

After these training sessions which could last a few days or even a week, he would always return to the Monastery bruised and battered, with scratches and abrasions. Once at the age of 16 he had returned with an injury so close to his eye that Pastor Jim had reprimanded Father John quite severely and kept Dean in seclusion for a week till he healed.

Dean had felt saddened by the incident and the look on Father John’s face as he left.

_Surely it had been Dean’s own fault for not moving fast enough. For not being quick on his feet. For not being lightening speed in his thinking_.

_Father John expected so much more from him every time ….and he failed him every time._

Dean worked so hard in the hope that someday he would see a glimmer of approval in his eyes ……but it had not yet happened. Some day soon it would, he comforted himself with the thought. _He would work harder. Much harder. He would try harder. He would learn better._

Sometimes when he looked at Father John and saw the flame of righteous passion in his eyes and the powerful forehead that shone with wisdom and that straight back, unbowed by all the travails, he felt proud to be a warrior fighting by his side.

Dean knew that he would always answer the Call and if need be, he would lay down his life for the Family.

.

Of course he believe that the dark Devil would always try to quell the light of God and that Good and Evil were two sides of the same coin. So it made sense that if there were good people like his Father, there must be evil monsters that needed to be destroyed.

But sometimes….just sometimes when he was beheading a vampire or burning a ghoul or exorcising a demon, he wondered if there was any other way possible.

_Could you change someone back to Good once they had been down the road to Evil? Was there some point where they could stop and return? Or was Death the only treatment? What if the line dividing good and evil actually cuts through the heart of every human being?_

_What would they be willing to destroy and what would they leave behind??_

**.**

Father John had spoken to him only once about the way the fire had consumed his mother and had told Dean that he should consider himself the Chosen One. That God had saved him for a reason and that he should devote his entire life to this cause.

Saving people. Hunting things.

The Family Legacy.

As a child he had felt pride and awe at this Legacy, but as he grew older Dean often felt this Legacy almost as a physical burden on his young shoulders. However, he still worked hard and did his duties to the best of his abilities. He studied the lore and prayed regularly and sought peace within the words of the Holy Book and through discourses with senior priests at the Monastery.

He did not always agree with everything he was being taught here but he felt that it was not for him to question it as a person of limited intelligence and education.

_Surely those who wrote the wise words understood things better than he._

He had been wondering of late if there was any truth in the whispers about wise men in other countries who were starting to say that it was the Earth that went around the Sun. They said that the stars only appeared small because they were so far away in the sky but they were also actually Suns. Some said that perhaps there was life after Death and perhaps there was no Hell and no Heaven. Some even spoke of re-birth and reincarnation of souls.

Such things puzzled him and worried him and he was never sure if he should speak during Confessional about thinking such things when the reality was that he did not feel any guilt but real curiosity and even wanted to know more. He had never dared ask Father John any of this of course. He had been taught to obey without question and that is what he would do till the end of his days.

But he had also come across some scrolls through Garth’s network which were written by Sufi mystics from Constantinople living in Fournier Common and he had found it fascinating that they spoke of Love and Devotion in such achingly consuming ways and never spoke of Hell or punishments. They addressed God as their Beloved and spoke to Him as they would to a lover.

He had copied down in his own pristine writing a small scrap of a poem that would not leave his mind. He had slipped it into his personal copy of The Bible and would sometimes take it out and read it.

_“A lover asked his beloved,  
Do you love yourself more  
than you love me?_

_The beloved replied,_  
I have died to myself  
and I live for you.”

On some nights in the silence of his cell, Dean would reflect on this and wonder.

_What was the nature of such love?_

_Would he ever be fortunate enough to feel it?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It would not allow me all the end notes I wanted to add so the next chapter is all the end notes! Because they are SO interesting!! ( at least to me :) )


	4. End notes of Chapter 3

  * “Covent Garden” is actually “Convent Garden,” which it was called as early as the 1500s for being the vegetable garden of the monks of Westminster Abbey. In the possession of several lease-holders until, in 1536, King Henry VIII seized the land as part of the dissolution of the monasteries.
  * **Gregor Johann Mendel** was an Austrian monk who discovered the basic principles of heredity through experiments in his garden. Mendel's observations became the foundation of modern genetics and the study of heredity.


  * According to the Book of Enoch which brings **Azazel** into connection with the Biblical story of the fall of the angels Azazel taught men the art of warfare, of making swords, knives, shields, and coats of mail, and taught women the art of deception by ornamenting the body, dyeing the hair, and painting the face and the eyebrows, and also revealed to the people the secrets of witchcraft and corrupted their manners, leading them into wickedness and impurity. “And there arose much godlessness, and they committed fornication, and they were led astray and became corrupt in all their ways." The corruption brought on by Azazel and the Grigori degrades the human race, and the four Archangels Micheal, Gabriel, Raphael and Uriel “saw much blood being shed upon the earth and all lawlessness being wrought upon the earth.


  * **Anne Boleyn** was Queen of England from 1533 to 1536 as the second wife of King Henry VIII. In order to make this happen the first break between the Church of England and Rome took place. She gave birth to the future Queen Elizabeth 1. She was beheaded some years later and the charges against her included adultery, incest, witchcraft and plotting to kill the king. She has been called the most influential and important queen consort England has ever had.



  * **Niccolò Machiavelli’s** work and influence in the world of political thought is such that many would go as far as to name him the founder and the father of modern political science. _The Prince,_ published in 1532, became a constant reference and inspired different avenues in political research. “ _In the world, the proportion between good and evil stays unchanged……_ ” From the book ‘Discourse’ by Nicholas Machiavelli



  * As per Supernatural canon: Fergus Roderick MacLeod (c. 1661 - 1723) was a human, who after death (near the age of 63) became **Crowley** ; a powerful demon who was the King of the Crossroads and the King of Hell, following Lucifer's second re-imprisonment in his Cage



  * Lasting from 1665 to 1666, **The Great Plague** killed an estimated 100,000 people—almost a quarter of London's population—in 18 months. The plague was caused by the _[Yersinia pestis](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yersinia_pestis)_ [bacterium](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bacterium), which is usually transmitted through the bite of an infected rat flea.



  * The **Hashashin** , also known as the Assassins, was a medieval organization of assassins located in the Middle East. ... The Assassin Order killed sultans, kings, viziers, advisers, caliphs, judges, patriarchs, counts, and anyone else who threatened their way of life. <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Order_of_Assassins>


  * The Poor Fellow-Soldiers of Christ and of the Temple of Solomon also known as the **Knights Templar** were a Catholic military order founded in 1119. The Templars grew rapidly in membership and power. Templar knights, in their distinctive white mantles and a red cross, were amongst the most skilled fighting units of the Crusades. <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Knights_Templar>



  * The first major vagrancy law in England and Wales was passed in 1349 and sought to increase the available workforce following the Black Death, by making idleness (unemployment) an offence. A vagrant was a person who could work but chose not to, and having no fixed abode or lawful occupation, begged. Vagrancy was punishable by human branding and whipping. “If it happens that a vagabond has been idling about for three days, he is to be taken to his birthplace, branded with a red hot iron with the letter V on his breast, and set to work, in chains, on the roads or at some other labour...”
  * Young noble males would have been trained in weaponry from the age of around 10, and they would have become squires (trainee knights) from age 14. They practised with such devices as the quintain - a rotating arm with a shield at one end and a weight at the other. Riding a horse at full gallop and cutting at a pell or wooden post with one’s sword was another training technique. A knight would have been practised at using the bow and perhaps even crossbow. If dismounted or robbed of his sword, then a knight needed to be handy with an axe, mace or, the weapon of last resort, a dagger. <https://www.ancient.eu/article/1238/the-weapons-of-an-english-medieval-knight/>


  * “If only it were all so simple! If only there were evil people somewhere insidiously committing evil deeds, and it were necessary only to separate them from the rest of us and destroy them. But the line dividing good and evil cuts through the heart of every human being. And who is willing to destroy a piece of his own heart?” Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn


  * Calendula flower is used to prevent muscle spasms, start menstrual periods, and reduce fever. Rosemary is one of the oldest incenses has been used traditionally to cleanse and purify a space of any negativity. It protects against nightmares when placed beneath the pillow, and when hung by the door it protects against thieves. It has long been used for love potions and elixirs. Rue has been used as a healing ally by placing the leaves directly on the area of illness, such as the head for a headache. When smelled, rue clears the mind and improves mental acuity, and has long been used in the bath to break curses or hexes against you. It’s believed that it protects against the evil eye, werewolves, and poisons. Yarrow is still believed to enhance clairvoyance and psychic powers and when placed under the pillow, it is said that it will bring prophetic dreams of your true love. Yarrow brings courage and strength, and helps to protect against injury during battle. <https://www.threeleaffarm.com/blog/botanical-magic-plants-in-myth-and-folklore>
  * **Rowena** was the daughter of the mythological Anglo-Saxon chief Hengist and and wife of Vortigern, King of the Britons. Contemporary sources do not mention Rowena, which leads modern historians to regard her as fictitious.



_A lover asked his beloved,  
Do you love yourself more  
than you love me?_

_The beloved replied,  
I have died to myself  
and I live for you._

_I’ve disappeared from myself  
and my attributes.  
I am present only for you._

_I have forgotten all my learning,  
but from knowing you  
I have become a scholar._

_I have lost all my strength,  
but from your power  
I am able._

_If I love myself  
I love you.  
If I love you  
I love myself._

_~ Rumi, “Do You Love Me?”_


	5. Stranger in a Strange Land

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean finds himself slowly pulled into a helpless orbit around a certain stranger

It was these thoughts about doubts and love and seeking that were churning through Dean’s mind the day after he had tended to the stranger and when his feet found themselves going towards the area where Custodian Bobby lived and worked.

He respected the Custodian as a good human being, driven by the same desires as his own-- to be of service and to protect the weak. He thought of him as _being on the side of the angels_ and he smiled at his own fancies.

The Custodian oversaw a force of almost 200 Constables and Watchmen and also had the power to ensure justice and to punish offenders. He was one of the most powerful men in London.

Although the Custodian had a troubled relationship with Father John he had been nothing but kind to Dean. In fact Dean had often wished, in his weak moments, that this man had been his true father. Of course, he would always feel ashamed after these thoughts and say a hundred Hail Marys and thank his fortune that at least the man was like a surrogate father to him.

Surely it was a testament to Bobby’s inner goodness that he had forged a relationship with someone as humble as Brother Dean and it was this goodness that Dean had appealed to when he had first had a case of illness involving one of the homeless.

His faith had been justified.

Despite a brutal law passed 330 years ago that allowed the Constabulary to arrest, whip and even brand the homeless with a hot iron to say ‘V’ for vagabonds, the Custodian had always dealt with them with a soft hand and had even encouraged the King to show greater leniency and provide help to these unfortunates by opening soup kitchens and offering training houses to make them skilled for work, fixing old wagons and carriages in a salvage yard.

So Dean knew that he was doing the right thing today by seeking asylum for this stranger whose thoughts would not leave him from one setting sun to another. It did cause him some discomfort to imagine that the stranger was running away from priests like him and that perhaps he should inform Father John first.

But something far more primal than his learnings and duties made him want to protect this beautiful stranger at all costs. Even if it meant hiding him from Father John.

He felt a shiver of fear down his spine at the thought but not for one moment did it occur to him to change his mind.

This beautiful stranger, in some ethereal and exotic way, was very unique even in a city like London where the strange and lost folks from all over the globe turned up. Even within this veritable circus of life this youth had some curious magnetic lure and despite all the mystery and possible danger, he felt certain that the strange young man was something precious and to be protected at all costs.

Also, he definitely trusted the Custodian rather than Father John in the first instance for the greater possibility that Mister Singer would at least listen to what Dean had to say before deciding to cut the stranger’s head off!!

.

The Custodian had been busy signing scrolls and then locking up the seals but he ensured that when Brother Dean was announced he was given food and drink and a comfortable place to sit in the garden. Finally when he did come over, Brother Dean stood up to greet him and Bobby enveloped him in a warm hug.

‘Good to see you Dean, it has been many days since we had the pleasure of one of our discussions!’’

‘It is indeed so Custodian and I fear I have been busy with many tasks that were not of my own choosing,’ Dean said with a small apologetic shrug.

‘Oh, please call me Bobby when we are in private. I consider you my friend, one of my very few friends in this city which seems to be populated with more and more rogues, thieves and murderers every day. And that’s just in the Palace.” Bobby said as he snorted with laughter at his own joke.

Dean’s eyebrows went up a bit at this indiscretion but they were inside the Custodian’s private residence so he supposed they were safe to speak more freely and laugh as such.

Once they had drunk a glass of warm ale together, he finally explained the situation to Bobby and asked for a safe house asylum.

Bobby frowned a bit and said thoughtfully. “I had heard whispers of a young nobleman who is either a genius or some kind of Devil and has been saying he has proof about the planets and the Sun. He has been espousing ideas about the nature of the universe which run contrary to what our Church Fathers would have us believe. Think you he is the same man?”

“I do not know.” Dean said honestly, looking a bit worried. “He would not say much and I fear he was too tired and hollowed out by hunger and thirst to warrant a stronger interrogation. I would prefer keeping him alive and well and then allowing him to tell his story when he is ready.”

“Yes, yes, you are right Dean. Of course. Does he seem dangerous?” Bobby asked with a shrewd look in his eyes. He trusted this young Hunter who seemed to have been born to the role but seemed to have an ongoing inner struggle to find a balance between saving people and hunting things.

“Well, I gave him Holy Water to drink and touched him with my silver ring when I tended his wounds.” Dean informed him. “His wounds were not healing any faster than they would for humans. And he did not react when I said the words Christo. So it would seem that he is just a man. A very troubled young man undoubtedly. A genius possibly….but yet just a man.”

The Custodian nodded thoughtfully. “The Devil is surely cleverer than all of us put together and could fool the best of us if he wanted but if you are not concerned as of now then perhaps this young man ought to be helped. It has been a good few months now that I have had a new room constructed deep below this house, fortified with iron walls and painted over with traps and sigils and wards. It has not had good use yet but surely he will be safe there if he is being hounded and we will be safe from him if he is an evil creature in disguise.”

Dean agreed and so they made a plan to shift the stranger the very next day. Any further delays could prove dangerous either way.

As he left Bobby’s residence, feeling far more satisfied with the outcome than he had expected and rather excited by the idea of the underground safe room, somehow Dean could feel even more certainly in his blood that the young man was no danger to them and in fact needed to be kept safe from outside perils.

.

The very next day Dean found himself on the same horse going back towards the Common.

As he rode down on the long path his thoughts turned to the nature of men and the power of belief.

_Why was it that he sometimes questioned his belief in God but felt so strong in his belief of the goodness of a man like the Custodian? Or the belief that somehow he needed to keep this stranger safe although the young man had not even told him his name yet?! It was as though every fibre of his being was telling him to protect this stranger. From any danger in heaven or hell or on earth. With his own life if needed._

_What sense did that even make?_

Garth had said something about tainted blood and Dean knew that he and the Band of Brothers had killed many a monster for much less.

But somehow this young man seemed pure. Not holy. But pure.

_And tainted or not….Dean know that there was something about his touch that made his own blood sing._

He was startled as the thought formed in his mind. He was never given to such flights of fancy.

_What was it about this stranger that seemed to have changed the very utterances in his mind?_

Lost in these thoughts he reached soon enough and found Little Charlie waiting for him. As usual she did not speak but just led him to the same place. The room was still dirty but the young man himself looked much better today, despite his dishevelled appearance and wild mane of long hair. He looked at Dean through his bangs and huffed.

“So……are you waiting for me to improve in my constitution and humours so you can tie me up in chains and then interrogate me?” He said imperiously. “Wasn’t it enough that I drank freely of the Holy Water and my skin did not scorch from your silver ring?”

Dean raised an eyebrow at this revelation –the man knew about the ways of the unnatural creatures of the Night--but he just smiled back gently and nodded.

‘I see that you have been fed and looked after well by Little Charlie. We should move you tonight to a safe house. Forsooth, there are no chains and no interrogation awaiting you good sir. You seek asylum and we will offer it.’

The young man looked at him through narrowed eyes, still scowling, though his posture was less tense now. “Why should I trust you?”

“Do you have a choice?” Dean asked him simply and watched his shoulders slump in defeat, as he pursed his lips grimly and looked away.

Dean suddenly had an inexplicable desire to hold the young man and comfort him at that moment. To cradle his head in his arms and stroke that soft hair falling wildly into his eyes.

He had this odd sensation once again that he would do anything to take away the boy’s unhappiness. To take away all his misery and pain….to take it on himself so that the lad would not suffer. Ever again.

Then he shook his head in sharp panic and murmured a quick prayer to ward away the Devil’s Temptation….. _for surely that was what this was?!_

When he had finished his chant he broke the silence between them gently and spoke to the sorrowful young man once again. ‘Would you tell me your name, my good man?’

‘What is in a name?’ he growled. ‘A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.’

Dean could not resist a half smile. “Yes, that is true……so perhaps you had best tell me your name after we have given you a bath.”

The youth whipped his head around and looked at him with a stunned expression. Dean thought he was going to hurl some insult when suddenly he threw back his head and laughed instead.

Dean thought it was the most beautiful sound he had heard.

_Better even than the pealing of Church bells on a quiet Sunday morning._

The young man’s shoulders kept shaking with laughter and he said ‘You jest my good sir! You are a funny monk or should I say priest?’

‘My name is Dean. I have not yet been ordained. You may call me Brother Dean if you choose.” Dean said, as he tried to help the man off the bed. ‘Here take my hand.’

‘Sam.’ said the youth. ‘My name is Sam.’ and gave him his hand.

As soon as their fingers touched Dean felt a thrill go through him again. He held Sam’s hand in a strong grip and helped him up on the saddle and then rode the black horse to the Custodian’s residence. Sam sat behind him on the saddle, wearing a dark robe and hood to cover his exotic features and long black hair.

Dean prayed to Saint Christopher that the horse would stay strong enough to carry them both since Sam was lean but muscular, and almost as tall as him, which was saying a lot!

By the time they reached the safe house Sam was almost asleep and was holding onto Dean around the waist to stop himself from falling off the horse.

Dean was sure he had never understood the phrase ‘sweet agony’ till that evening. He wanted Sam to hold him like that all night and ride off with him somewhere far away. He felt both protective and also protected….. with Sam holding him like this.

He felt….comfort. He felt….an unfamiliar sense of longing…..which just grew with every breath that he could feel on his back and with every small movement as Sam’s hands slipped and gripped him back in sleepy slowness.

But with every such half formed thought his mind was in agonies of terror in the knowledge that even such thoughts were Sin. A Crime against his Order. A Shame. A Wickedness.

_Surely this Sunday he would have to confess to such impure thoughts._

Finally, not soon enough……and yet far too soon…they reached the Custodian’s safe house, entering it from a secret alleyway.

Some of Garth’s people were there already and they took Sam in. Dean stood there watching Sam disappear down the stairs and wondered at the odd desire he had to follow him and the unexpected thrill when Sam ducked through the alleyway and turned back to look at him and smile. 

.

The next day was the Day of the Lord and Dean spent the entire day in silent prayer, reluctant to confess even though he knew he had many things to say.

He just had this intense desire to not share even the thoughts of Sam with anyone….even in the secrecy of confessional where no names would have to be revealed. He wanted to protect everything about Sam with a powerful intent that rocked him to his very core and his mind was spinning like wheels on a carriage and going in a hundred different directions at once.

Father John had finally returned from the Hunt that day, tired and injured. He had met Dean briefly in the morning and although Dean could not break his silence, he could listen and he had heard that Father had been worried for the past few weeks about some new omens and had muttered something vague about the child of Lucifer.

There had been some lightning strikes on the oldest Oak tree in the Royal Garden….…or was it a Yew tree……anyway……somehow that had worried Father. A farmer had reported some dead cattle and although this was not in itself unusual, there seemed to be some pattern forming. There had been some curious rain patterns and flocks of birds migrating in the direction contrary to their usual.

Dean had listened as attentively as he could and nodded solemnly, agreeing silently to work on more exorcisms in the coming week, hoping that Father John could not read in his eyes any secrets about a stranger whose touch had made his skin spark and whose fox like eyes made him want to drown in them.

Despite the fact that he had just agreed with Father to be prepared to fight off the Apocalypse, and the possible end of the world, the only thought that was uppermost in his mind from morning prayers to night psalms was …….. _When will I see Sam again?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> • Saint Christopher is the patron saint of strength.
> 
> • The concept of modern policing has its roots in pre-Victorian England, when the British home minister, Sir Robert Peel (1778-1850), oversaw the creation of London’s first organized police force. Robert Peel’s system was a success, and by the mid-19th century large American cities had created similar police forces. In London, the policemen were so identified with the politician who created them that they were referred to as “Bobbies,” after the popular nickname for Robert.  
> https://www.history.com/news/why-are-british-police-officers-called-bobbies
> 
> • Good old Bobby!! The name Robert is an ancient Germanic given name, from Proto-Germanic *Hrōþi- "fame" and *berhta- "bright" (Hrōþiberhtaz). Compare Old Dutch Robrecht and Old High German Hrodebert (a compound of Hruod (Old Norse: Hróðr) "fame, glory, honour, renown" and berht "bright, shining").


	6. Are You There, God? It's Me, Dean Winchester"

As it happened it was almost five whole days before he could leave the Monastery.

That day Little Charlie came for some ointment for an injury and when Dean took her to the cleaning room she handed him a small white pebble.

Dean could feel his heart racing and he hoped against hope that this call was for who he thought it was. However he stayed calm and dressed her wound and then packed his medicine bag and found his way to the alley outside the safe house.

He was guided in and down the stairs and then was directed upwards again by someone waiting inside till he eventually found himself right inside the smaller courtyard of the Custodian’s home.

He was led further inside to the main courtyard and then to the dining area where he found Sam, the Custodian and an unknown man sitting around a table talking and eating food.

‘Oh come on in Brother Dean’, said Bobby affably. “May it please you to join us for a meal’.

Even in the dim candlelight and heavy shadows Dean could see that Sam looked much healthier today and his hollow cheeks actually seemed to have filled out just a bit. He was dressed like the nobility Dean had been sure he belonged to. Ruffles and lace and a high collar that set off his sharp cheekbones splendidly.

Dean felt a warm glow inside him at the knowledge that Bobby had found Sam to be safe and trusted him inside his home. So he gave Sam a short nod to prevent himself from just staring at him awestruck and then went and sat down in front of Bobby.

That is when he suddenly realized that the fourth person he had thought was another man was actually a woman in some kind of disguise. He just stared at her and then blinked in confusion and looked round the table for an explanation.

Bobby said softly, “Dean-- this is Her Majesty Queen Anne Ellen Margaret’.

Dean stood up so quickly his chair almost fell down.

‘Your Majesty!’ he said in a respectful voice and bowed low.

‘You may sit Brother.” She said in a soft voice. ‘Here at Robert’s table we are all friends and you may call me Ellen’.

Dean looked horror struck even at the suggestion but he did sit down. His brain was buzzing with so many questions. _Why? How? What?_

The others had resumed a conversation they seemed to have been in the middle of so Dean served himself some bread and meat and ale and quietly ate and listened.

Sam was speaking. “So I declare to you that a human being is part of the whole called by us ‘universe’, a part limited in time and space. We experience ourselves, our thoughts and feelings as something separate from the rest. A kind of optical delusion of consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us and our task must be to free ourselves from this prison. We shall require a substantially new manner of thinking if mankind is to survive.”

Ellen said quietly, “But it is the knowledge of necessary and eternal truths which distinguishes us from mere animals, and gives us reason and the sciences, raising us to knowledge of ourselves and God. It is this in us which we call the rational soul or mind”.

Bobby listened to both of them thoughtfully and said, “All arguments concerning existence are founded on the relation of cause and effect; Without the influence of custom, we should be entirely ignorant of every matter of fact beyond what is immediately present to the memory and senses.”

Sam nodded. “But it is the knowledge of necessary and eternal truths which distinguishes us from mere animals……..”

Dean looked at them all and wondered again if he was dreaming. Bobby had invited the young stranger to share his bread. That young man was smiling at the Queen as though they were long lost friends. And he himself was sitting here and having dinner with the both of them.

He was having dinner with the Queen!! This could surely not be real!

“Robert, it is time for me to leave before I am missed at the Palace.” Ellen said. “It was good to see you Brother Dean. Lord Samuel --- please take care of yourself. We will meet again soon I hope.”

As soon as she stood up all the men rose and bowed to her and Bobby moved to open the door and escort her out.

Samuel stepped forward, took her hand and bowing low over it, kissed it and said “Your wish is my command! Sleep well my Queen.”

Dean’s head was reeling with this new information. Lord Samuel?! Who WAS this man??

.

Dean stood there, suddenly and terrifyingly alone with Sam…….no with ‘Lord Samuel’ and quite unsure of what to do. Keeping his voice calm he asked the man if he could examine him and check on his wounds.

“By all means oh healer” said Lord Samuel with a slow almost mocking bow. “But I fear that Widow Barnes’s ointments and creams have magicked my wounds away!”

So it was indeed true and the healing was almost complete.

Dean felt relief at the sight of that clean skin but also a sudden stab of worry that he would no longer have a reason to meet Sam. He looked at that beautiful chiselled muscular upper body unclothed in front of him and drew in a sharp breath before he could stop himself.

“So, do I smell better than a rose today?” Sam asked him slowly with a half- smile.

Dean blushed at being caught openly admiring him and said “Indeed my Lord, it pleases me to say that the rest and food has brought improvement in your body and seems to have also made your mind alert. However, now I need to make godspeed back to the Monastery. It may be many days till we meet again since you have no need of my care now.”

Samuel gazed at him strangely and said,” So would I have to injure myself again before you would seek me out, oh fine healer?”

Dean looked up sharply to see if he was making fun of him but the man seemed to be genuinely curious.

“No indeed not my good Sire.” He said to Sam, trying to sound calm. “Surely there would be happier occasions when we could renew our acquaintance in the days to come!”

“And would you like to?” Sam asked softly, staring at him as though looking down into his very soul. “Renew our acquaintance?”

Without even processing what implications that his answer might have Dean exclaimed, “Yes! Yes indeed I would!”

He was not sure where that certainty came from but he had this feeling deep inside his heart that he would never be able to say no to this man. He could not. He would do anything to keep him happy. He could not understand why.

“Uh…if it pleases you my Lord.” He continued, suddenly unsure of what his place was with this renegade nobleman.

“Sam. You can always call me Sam.” Lord Samuel frowned. “It puts too much of a distance between us. These foolish titles. Don’t you think?” Then he smiled and his cat like eyes twinkled. “I too would prefer to call you Dean…and not Brother Dean.”

Dean felt a tremor course through his very being at the way his given name sounded from the lips of this beautiful creature of God.

But some part of him worried at the impropriety of it all. He was about to speak when Sam stopped him with a hand on his arm and pointed up at the sky that was clearly seen through the courtyard. In a voice full of passion and wonder he declared. ““Dean! Don’t you ever look at the stars in the sky and think if there is any other Earth and any other Life and any other you or any other me?”

Dean turned and looked, too enchanted to even worry much that this conversation was bordering on the blasphemous!

He saw the milky spray of stars studding the inky sky and the vastness of the universe and felt a sense of wonder at the realization that it was all as nothing if it did not have this young man in it. He started to feel a growing agitation at the way his thoughts seemed to keep veering away from all that he had been taught. The way he was beginning to feel constantly lost in the magnetic pull of this magnificent creature who seemed to have more thoughts and ideas in his brain than all the people of London he had ever met.

_Outrageous thoughts. Dangerous thoughts._

Dean wondered again why he was running and who from…..but then Sam looked into his eyes with such an intense focus as though he were the only person in existence and held out his hand and Dean automatically took it.

As soon as their skin touched, he felt that spark once again and that thrill of a deep feeling of belonging. He felt like his hand had been empty his whole life and was meant to be exactly here, in this elegant warm palm with these beautiful long fingers holding him.

He looked dazed as Sam interlocked their fingers and tightened his grip.

It felt more pure and divine than anything Dean had ever felt during worship in his entire life. 

But as soon as this thought crossed his mind, he felt agitated and it must have showed on his face because Sam slowly released his hand and looked at him with that piercing stare and said: ‘If you would be a real seeker after truth, it is necessary that at least once in your life you doubt, as far as possible, all things. Godspeed Dean.’

Then he turned and left.

.

That night Dean was unable to sleep.

Conflicting emotions and thoughts raged through his mind all night long. It is not as though he had never touched a man before. As a healer he has had to touch so many men and women and in so many ways.

But he had never once felt the kind of flames in his blood that he seems to feel every single time his skin is in contact with Sam’s.

_Was God testing him? Was Satan tempting him?_

He dreamt of night skies and galaxies spinning around. He saw himself sitting in a courtyard with Sam and telling him "Hear my soul speak: The very instant that I saw you, did my heart fly to your service." And then he saw Sam move closer to him and hold his face in both his hands. As he leaned forward Dean woke up terrified and with a rapid heartbeat.

_This was not good._

_This was surely not good at all._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> •London’s secret Tunnels: One section contains a bricked-up tunnel, which is believed to run underneath Pall Mall to St James’s Palace. Legend has it that merry monarch Charles II would use the tunnel to pass unobserved from his palace to the high-class brothel that formerly occupied the site. Similar tunnels probably run from Custodian Bobby’s residence to various guarded locations!  
> https://www.thinkingbob.co.uk/10-secret-tunnels-under-london
> 
> •"A rose by any other name would smell as sweet" William Shakespeare's play Romeo and Juliet.
> 
> •“So I declare to you that a human being is part of the whole called by us ‘universe’, a part limited in time and space…….” Albert Einstein
> 
> •“But it is the knowledge of necessary and eternal truths which distinguishes us from mere animals……..” Leibniz, 1670. Leibniz was one of the renaissance men and contributed to philosophy as well is credited for developing infinitesimal calculus, a distinction he shared with Sir Isaac Newton
> 
> •“All arguments concerning existence are founded on the relation of cause and effect” David Hume, 1737. He was a Scottish philosopher, economist and historian of the Age of Enlightenment. 
> 
> •‘If you would be a real seeker after truth, it is necessary that at least once in your life you doubt, as far as possible, all things”. Renee Descartes (famous for saying “I think therefore I am”).
> 
> •"Hear my soul speak: The very instant that I saw you, did my heart fly to your service." William Shakespeare The Tempest.

**Author's Note:**

> Heretic: a non- conformist, disruptor, a person holding an opinion at odds with what is generally accepted.


End file.
